Five years into my relationship with a Godfather-to-be, I realized Cicio Russo had fallen for someone else. And I decided that the choice should be his. I laid the options right in front of him: break up with me, or send that someone else far away overseas.

Cicio Russo stood outside my windows all night, down there with the coldness of the night cutting through him and fogging his breath. By morning, Cicio told me that he'd decided. His choice was me.

Or at least - that was what I was made to believe.

Surprise came on the very day of our wedding, a strange little boy ran straight down the aisle that was supposed to be mine to walk.

“Daddy,” he cried at Cicio and Cicio’s face of stony indifference, “What about me? You have left mommy already. Are you going to abandon me, too?”

The ring slipped from Cicio’s hand and hit the carpet with a muted thud.

He turned his back on me and walked away without even looking back.

I pulled off the white veil. And I snatched the microphone from the host.

“If you take one more step,” I screamed into the microphone, “if you leave, I will give all this up. And you, too. Do you hear me? I will give you up.”

He froze.

For only one second.

Then he stepped away anyway.

The day I realized Cicio Russo had taken a liking to another girl behind my back, I spent the whole night thinking without much agitation.

The final conclusion I reached? He was all I cared about. And I still couldn’t let him go. So, at my insistence, Cicio left that girl.

Well, to be more exact, he sent her away. And our relationship seemed to have returned to what it had been before all the drama and betrayal. But I knew it hadn’t.

Over the past three years, the time Cicio Russo spent alone with me had grown shorter and predictably shorter. He would rather stay in the grand study, where he dealt with all his family business, facing those dull shelves with bulky books, than come home to be with me and my everlasting warm company.

The meals I reheated again and again, the lights that stayed on night after night—it all felt like they were telling me: He was not coming back.

One night, Cicio came home late and paused for a moment when he stepped through the door.

He probably hadn’t expected to see me in the living room, because normally at this hour, I would have been asleep; he knew that.

I got up from the sofa and took the coat from his hands. Then I fumbled slightly, untying his tie for him with a hint of unfamiliarity.

I should've known that because ever since that girl had left, he hadn’t let me touch him at all.

“Go take a shower first. I've got something to tell you.”

In recent years, Cicio had less and less to say to me at all. For now, his tired eyes shot at me with fatigue. And not to my surprise, it was both urging and impatience.

I smiled wryly. “Cicio, can we get married?”

Cicio paused in his breath, and my heart jumped into my throat.

I was terrified he would shut me out with the word “no.”

But Cicio just stayed silent for a moment, then said, “Okay.”And he turned and went upstairs, leaving me reeling where I was.

The wedding preparation had gone on for a whole month, yet Cicio only showed up three times. The first time was for the photoshoot—he took merely one picture and left.

Then he showed up briefly and took me to get my wedding ring done — a little underwhelming in terms of carats, but it’d do.

As for the third time, it was the day we went to officiate our marriage, on the way to get the marriage certificate at the city hall.

In the back seat of the car, I stared into his eyes, this silent man beside me, who hadn’t spoken a word the whole way here.

I couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or exhaustion on his face.

Anyway, I told him.“Cicio, let’s have the ceremony first if you want; we can get the certificate after the wedding ceremony.”

“Okay.”A rather predictable answer from Cicio, again.

Flash forward to this very moment, at the wedding ceremony, I was watching Cicio turning away from me, watching his feet taking him away from me without the slightest hesitation, and I felt a strange sense of relief.

Because deep down, I know that I had left myself an escape route out of this mess.

Three days after the wedding, I finally met Cicio again. It was at the kindergarten, a bunch of parents were dropping their toddlers off at the entrance gates, and there he was, dropping off his newly acknowledged son at school.

With the mother of that little thing, of course.

The principal of this prestigious children’s wonderland personally came out to welcome Cicio, the good news, the renowned parent.

“Mr. Russo, Mrs. Russo, rest assured, your son will be well taken care of here.”

I noticed that, being called Mrs. Russo, Jessica Kolt, aka the mother of his son, standing beside her husband, stole a glance at him and flushed.

Cicio paused slightly, but didn't protest.

I stood a little farther away, feeling amused. What a scene. We were on the page of actual marriage just the other day, and our relationship was in no way over. And yet, he was already getting another woman as his wife.

The grip on my hand loosened. My little nephew, whom I was holding, suddenly dashed straight in front of Cicio.

He pushed Cicio hard and glared at the woman beside him.

“Is that how the adult world works? I don’t understand you guys. Like, a few days ago, you were marrying my aunt there, weren’t you? And now? What? You call a stranger Mrs. Russo? What’s all this?”

All around were teachers and parents watching. I knew Cicio wouldn’t let his son's reputation be stained by such a scandalous tumult.

He stepped forward and pulled the woman behind him, glaring at me like the coldest day in January.

“Danielle Genarro, control that kid. He's your responsibility. Don’t let him throw his nonsense around and slander my wife.”

Just one sentence, and everyone’s eyes were drawn to me instead.

He was certain I wouldn’t publicly humiliate him; he was certain I still had feelings for him.

As for me, I had imagined countless times how he would speak to me when we met again after that day of catastrophe.

But I never expected that he would lose the last ounce of guilt toward me.

Finishing his harsh words, Cicio turned his back on me, his steps hurried, leaving with the principal to process the enrollment for his boy.

By the time they were through with all that and came out, I still hadn’t left.

Jessica Kolt, with her head down, didn’t dare throw a look at me. She had worked for me after all. In fact, three years ago, she had been my intern assistant.

And it was through my connection that she had gotten to know Cicio.

The boy asked, “Mom, why is that woman always around Daddy? She’s so annoying.”

Oh my. No wonder he was Cicio’s son—just like him, always made it impossible for anyone to like him.

Cicio kept his hands in his pockets, calm as ever. He turned to me.“He’s still a child. It’s just kids’ talk. Don’t take it personally.”

I tilted my head back and let out a soft laugh.

“And what if I insist on taking it personally?”

Cicio stared at me, finally shaking his head in helplessness.

“Dani. Please. I can't deal with you right now.”

Jessica, clearly scared of me, shivered and pushed her son forward, facing my wayward face.

“Apologize to Principessa Genarro! If you upset her, Dad would get mad with you and disown you.”

The boy looked at me in terror, much like his mom, and turned around and clung to Cicio’s legs, crying loudly. The noise gave me a headache.

At that moment, I suddenly realized, damn it, I didn’t even want his answer anymore.

It took me three whole days to finally move all my things out of Cicio’s house. I was in the middle of packing into the car when he suddenly came home.

The housekeeper was a very sweet woman called Anna. Seeing Cicio's appearance, she hurried to him.

“Don Russo, please, will you talk some sense into our Dani! Couples fight and cold-shoulder each other all the time, and it's supposed to be temporary! I mean, it’s not like you're really breaking up!”

Cicio stood towering over me, saying nothing. The only sound in the house was the ripping of tape under my hands for my cardboard boxes.

A prolonged silence. So long that I thought he was forming speeches to ask me to stay. To stop this nonsense. But Cicio said, “No rush. You don’t have to leave all at once.”

Goddamn him. How could he say it so matter-of-factly, as if nothing had ever happened?

I paused and looked up at the handsome man I had fallen in love with for eight years, and I hated the fact that even now, he still captivated me.

“Cicio, don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

He lowered his head, deep in thought.

“Well, I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

Meaning if he had known, he would never have chosen me back then.

I gave him a small chuckle. Danielle Genarro, you’ve made a fool of yourself once again.

Snap out of it! You are about to be the mother figure of his Mafia!

There was a pang of injustice surging inside me.

WHY? It was him who got someone pregnant, and it was him who ran from the wedding, then why? Why should I be the one who had to slink away like a rat hiding from the light?

I threw down the cardboard box that I was packing, stood up, and charged at him. I slapped him, which triggered something in me, and I just kept at it.

I couldn't stop skapping his face. The slaps landed continuously on his face, and my palm hurt from the force, but the man just tilted his head, staring at me in all my pitiful, messy glory.

“Did that make you happy? Huh?” When I was too overwhelmed to give him a proper answer, he literally turned the other cheek.“Just let it all out. Here, this side of the cheek is yours too.”

Fuck him. Before he could finish the last word, I pressed my lips hard against his.

Cicio stopped for a moment, then cupped the back of my head and returned the force of my greedy lips. The long-Principessaed contact made our eyes blood-stained, as well as our lips. The taste of something metallic filled my mouth.

After we finally managed to part ourselves from each other, I bit my lips, holding back the tears.

“Cicio, what you've done to me, you know, it'd come with a price.”

He stared into my eyes for a long while before saying, “Fine. Whatever you want.”

Whatever I want. Got it.

Ever since that day, Jessica Kolt and her son had officially moved in with Cicio Russo.

She excelled at playing the role of the housewife he had always admired. A good spouse. A good mother. She took her kid to school every single day without ever complaining or bothering Cicio. She did all the house chores and made everything spotless.

After all this, she still had time to prepare for Cicio his favorite homemade snacks and carried them personally to Cicio to where he worked.

Cicio accepted all this silently. It could be for his son’s sake, who knows, that he never even raised his voice in front of Jessica.

Back when we were together, Cicio’s study was strictly forbidden territory for me.

But now Jessica has somehow been granted a special pass there. She would stay there, with her meek smile and snacks, for about two hours every day. That gave people a lot to gossip about.

“I think this might be the one for Mr. Russo.”

“I agree. True love can melt a heart made of stone.”

“I wonder where Danielle Genarro is right now.”

“She was never meant to be with Mr. Russo. It’s all about money and power. She’s her family’s pawn. Mr. Russo should’ve been with Principessa Kolt all along if the Genarro girl hadn’t shown up and made all this mess.”

One day, I was sent by my family for some important errands at the Russo residence, and I accidentally ran into Jessica. She just came out of that once forbidden study to me.

The door was ajar, and through the crack I saw Cicio. He was half-naked and flushed all over his skin. His eyes met mine and dropped. I saw something like ashamed panic flicker in there for a moment.

It occurred to me that Cicio never touched me that way at all. I always thought that it’s his nature. That he just couldn’t let himself be touched with that level of steaming lust.

Turned out that he just couldn’t be touched by me. He’s waiting for someone other than me.

Jessica stepped in my way and blocked the view into Cicio’s study.

“Principessa Genarro, I’m sorry but you can’t go in there.” She said, “To be honest, it’s very rude of you to barge in like this, at a moment like this. Cicio is with me now. I don’t know what you want, but Cicio isn’t yours to take now. Please leave.”

She got some nerve. I chuckled.

“Cicio was going to marry me. We were literally having a wedding before you came and ruined it. To me, you are nothing but a cheap homewrecker who got knocked up.”

Jessica tried to suppress her emotion, but she was tearing up all right. “You were the one who wrecked our home! You ruined my love with Cicio!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” I sneered. She was so delusional.

“I don’t have to tell myself that. I can see that.” A color of triumph tinged her cheeks. “I have a son to prove my love for Cicio. He loved me enough to let me keep his son and to be the father of my son. ”

Cicio came out properly dressed. He was once again the cool and controlled himself. He strolled into the heated confrontation, then he took side.

“Dani, please leave. And don’t come back here again.”

I was flabbergasted.

“There’s no us anymore. I won’t take you back ever again.”

To me, this was like a loud and clear declaration of war. All the old sympathy and compassion were blown away by the cold wind of his words. I could see it now: he was not worth it.

I straightened my face and cleared my throat, trying to keep the sadness out, and dropped the bomb.

“It has nothing to do with us. I am here to represent my family. We want to cut ties with you. We are not partners anymore, and we will stop offering you any protection all at once.”

Dead silence.

“By the way, stop with the midnight slot porno. It sucks.” On my way out, I turned around and took a glimpse at Cicio. The dark shade in his eyes and the white knuckles on his fists satisfied me.

War means war. The Genarros drew back every nickel that had been put in anything the Russos related. I persuaded my family to do this, this borderline self-destruction, to have my revenge on Cicio’s betrayal.

There was one thing about me, is that I have always been my parents' precious princess. The only heiress of the family business means I can do whatever I want, and the only reply I’d ever get is going to be “as you wish”.

But Cicio was a different story. He was a bastard son given birth by a nameless whore, and he wandered among all the twelve orphanages in the city over the first 16 years of his life before getting reconnected to his family.

The power he was granted by the Russos mainly came from his engagement with me.

I could afford whatever carnage of this war. But Cicio couldn’t. There would be serious consequences if he messed up what should’ve been taken care of.

At this point, wasting more time on Jessica Kolt was the last thing I wanted.

At the end of the day, I thought, she wasn’t the only one to blame. I never meant to lay my vengeance upon her.

It was Cicio who broke my heart with his choice: if he loved me enough, he wouldn’t have looked Jessica’s way. The whole affair with Jessica shouldn’t have happened at all.

So my target had been Cicio. But Jessica always had a way to creep into my life.

After dinner this Saturday, my girlfriend Alice asked me to go shopping with her. I said yes since I had an order of a handbag to pick up anyway.

At my handbag place, just when the saleswoman displayed my handbag to me, Jessica showed up unannounced and ridiculously flaunted a credit card at me.

“I want that handbag right now.” The credit card was being berserked like a sword. “I can afford it. Cicio gave me this card, and he told me to buy anything I want.”

The saleswoman shrank. I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you come from a reputed family of the underworld, Principessa Genarro. But I believe Cicio can afford whatever you can afford, too. ”

She didn’t even know the knee-deep crap Cicio was in right now.

Neither did her son, who rolled his eyes at me and started screaming, “We want that bag!”

No one moved. It was my order. They couldn’t touch it without my permission.

“Jessica, why?” I sighed, “Why are you always taking what’s mine?”

“How is it yours?” Jessica looked confused, “It’s just an item put on a shelf for whoever can afford to buy.”

“Then how about Cicio? He was my fiancé.”

Jessica teared up.

“I didn’t take him. You were too incompetent to keep him. He came back to me.”

The confrontation kept on. Her son cried and stomped and threw tantrums. Jessica wouldn’t give in. I loved playing this game. Poor saleswomen couldn’t decide what to do, so they called Cicio.

There were dark circles around Cicio’s eyes. My decision gave him a hard time, I could see that.

Alice greeted Cicio with a sneer, “Here he comes, the man Jessica took from my bestie. Come on, Cicio, tell us, did Jessica steal you from Dani’s bed?”

Cicio didn’t look her way. He stared at me for a few moments, then came close and picked up his son from the floor, where his son kicked and screamed and cried.

The boy smudged all the tears and mucus on him, making his suit dirty. He hated getting dirty, but he made no objection to what the boy did.

“Mom cried because these bad women bullied her.”

To synchronize with her son’s claim, Jessica started sobbing without any tears. She leaned over on Cicio’s shoulder, letting out a few dry heaves, “Please don’t make it harder for Principessa Genarro.”

“Come here, it’s alright.” Cicio caressed Jessica’s hair.

“I never deserve to be here, nor to want the same handbag Principessa Genarro wanted. I’m not worth it anyway.”

Cicio’s eyes were fixed on me, “Did you say anything to her?”

It was too funny for me to say anything, so I stayed silent.

“If you want to hurt somebody, hurt me. Leave my wife and kid out of this. She is the mother of my child. There’s nothing she is not worthy of.”

What a hero. Cicio looked almost like a stranger to me right now.

It took me back to the time when we were still together, when he was fighting for what he called the opportunity of a lifetime. The right to build the new casino meant everything to his family. To secure it, he asked me to accompany him for the night.

I knew exactly why he wanted me there. My family name carried weight in those circles—old connections, old favors. He needed that reputation to soften the room. I went with him anyway.

At the table, Cicio introduced me to the rival bosses and crooked intermediaries, men who smiled too easily and watched too closely. The plan was already in motion. Someone had been poisoned to weaken the opposition, and Cicio asked me to keep refilling glasses, to urge them to drink, to distract them while the deal was being cornered.

Somewhere along the night, I drank what I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t realize it at first, only that the room started spinning, my body going numb, my thoughts slipping out of reach. I was unraveling in front of everyone, humiliated, barely conscious.

When the staff finally realized something was wrong and called an ambulance, Cicio didn’t come with me. The contract was ready to be signed, the bodies needed to be buried, and that mattered more than whether I lived or died.

He stayed at the table. And afterwards, he never even asked if I was okay.

He never said he was sorry.

Had he really ever loved me at all?

“Did you hear what I said?”Cicio raised his voice.

“She wants the handbag, doesn’t she?”I held the bag in the air, “I want the North End of the city.”

North End has always been the territory controlled by the Russo family; it’s their headquarters.

I knew he wouldn’t agree. He was never reckless enough to sacrifice his family’s reputation and wealth to make it up to an old flame he had.

Unexpectedly, his reply, solid and certain, came back to me like a blow to the gut.

“Sure. North End is yours.”